The Dog Loving Therapist Blog

As a psychotherapist, I spend a lot of time talking with people about stress, anxiety, burnout, trauma, and all the things that come with carrying a lot for a long time.

As a dog owner, I spend a lot of time being followed to the bathroom. Stay with me now…

One of the things I've noticed about my dog—and honestly, dogs in general—is that they often just want to be near us. Not because they're looking for a deep conversation. Not because they have advice to offer. Not because they're trying to solve anything.

They just want to be with us.

If I'm working, he's nearby. If I'm making dinner, he's nearby. If I'm sitting on the couch, he tends to be right beside me or somewhere close enough to keep an eye on me.

The more I think about it, the more I wonder if that's one of the most important lessons dogs have to teach us. It’s not about exercise or mindfulness. Not even about living in the moment. It’s simply about being witnessed.

Most of us spend a lot of our lives trying to hold things together, keep going, push through. We manage responsibilities, care for other people, meet deadlines, solve problems, and keep moving forward. We get very good at functioning and sometimes even over-functioning.

What we don't always get is the experience of simply being seen. Not evaluated. Not fixed. Not given advice. Just seen.

Dogs seem surprisingly good at this. They don't ask us to explain why we're stressed. They don't tell us we're overreacting. They don't offer a five-step plan for improving our mood. They sit beside us and rest their head on our leg. They stay. And you might even get a cuddle. And while that might seem simple, there's actually something quite profound about it. 

Humans are wired for connection. We do better when we feel seen. And less alone. Research tells us that supportive relationships help us manage stress and navigate difficult experiences. In therapy, a client may feel for the first time, truly seen and heard. We often talk about the importance of connection and co-regulation—the way another calm, caring presence can help our nervous system settle.

Dogs seem to understand this intuitively without ever having to learn the terminology.

I’m curious as to whether we sometimes make connection more complicated than it needs to be. Maybe being a good friend, partner, family member, or therapist isn't always about having the right words or the answers. Maybe it's about being willing to stay, to listen, to witness. And to let someone know they're not carrying everything alone.

My dog reminds me of this all the time. Usually while staring at me from three feet away for absolutely no reason. And maybe that's the lesson. Sometimes the most meaningful thing we can offer another person isn't advice or solutions but our presence.

Our dogs seem to know that already. It seems us humans are the ones still learning it.

Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr Aemon is staring at me because apparently this blog is cutting into his walk time. 

One recent afternoon, I found myself doing something I frequently hear clients sharing in session.

I was tired. Not exhausted. Not burnt out. Just tired in that ordinary, human way that comes from a full day of thinking, deciding, helping, responding, and carrying responsibilities. Typical life stuff.

So naturally, I told myself I would rest after I finished one more thing. That makes me feel better. Then one more thing became three more things. You know how it goes.

Meanwhile, 'you know who' (Aemon) was asleep on the living room floor, stretched out in a patch of sunlight as if he didn't have a single concern in the world. And to be fair, he probably didn't.

As I paused and watched him, it occurred to me that dogs have a very different relationship with rest than most humans do. They don't wait to earn it.

Aemon doesn't create a to-do list and then reward himself with a nap after everything is crossed off. He doesn't wonder whether he's been productive enough. He doesn't feel guilty for slowing down or internally debate whether he should be doing something more useful with his time.

When he's tired, he rests. It’s as simple as that.

For many of the people I work with, though, rest is anything but simple. And if I'm being honest, that's true for me sometimes too.

I work with adults who carry a lot. Therapists, teachers, healthcare workers, first responders, mothers, high achievers and those people who somehow become the person everyone else leans on. Many of them have spent their life, learning that their worth is connected to what they do. They feel responsible, capable, needed. They are often the ones holding everything together.

The challenge is that when your value becomes tied to your productivity, rest starts to feel like something you have to earn. You can only rest after the work is done.

However, there is always another responsibility waiting around the corner. Another task. Another demand. Another person who needs something from you. There is always something.

If rest only comes when everything is finished, then rest never comes.

We tell ourselves we'll slow down later, ask for help later, set boundaries later, rest later. Until one day, later arrives as burnout, anxiety, resentment, overwhelm, or a body that simply refuses to keep going. It's a pattern I've noticed over and over again in my work. Most people don't make changes when things first become difficult. We make changes, only when continuing the way we are becomes impossible.

But by then, rest is no longer preventative. It's recovery.

What if we have it backwards?

What if rest isn't something we earn after we've carried everything?

What if rest is one of the things that helps us carry what matters in the first place?

Aemon seems to understand this instinctively. He doesn't wait until he's completely worn down before he lies down. He rests when he needs to. Then he gets up and returns to whatever comes next.

There is something beautifully uncomplicated about that.

As humans, we tend to believe we need permission to stop. We tell ourselves we'll rest once we've done enough, achieved enough or given enough. But maybe being tired is reason enough. Maybe rest isn't a reward for productivity. Maybe it's just part of being human. And maybe we don't need to wait until we're completely depleted before we allow ourselves some.

Now, if Aemon were writing this blog, I suspect  it would be significantly shorter.

It would probably read:

Take the nap.

Go for the walk.

Stop making it complicated.

And honestly, he's not wrong there.